


Patch Me Up

by OneShotWonder



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Bobby Singer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 04:16:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7875850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneShotWonder/pseuds/OneShotWonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean drive up to Bobby's house after a hunt with an injured Dean. Bobby patches him up while pondering his relationship with the boys, and their relationship with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patch Me Up

Bobby almost hated the sound of the Impala driving up. He only saw the boys lately when one or both of them were in trouble, usually so bad they were on death’s door. He felt like a father to them most of the time, but especially in these moments when he could swear with confidence that they never called unless they needed something. He was damn proud of the both of them, after watching their father raise them in this life he didn’t know how they would turn out, but they surprised everyone by not only becoming kind, and well rounded men, but some of the best damn hunters he’d ever seen. Of course he would never admit that to them, just like he would never admit he got worried sick when they took months to call.

With his network of hunters from all over the country, he was sure he would hear within hours if something truly terrible happened to one of them, but that didn’t stop him from being worried sick most of the time. This must be what being a parent felt like, and Bobby was grumpy about it.

 

The familiar sound of the car meant they were driving up bloody, broken, and battered. He got his med-kit out as soon as Sam called, less than an hour ago and waited at the door. They were 90 miles away and Dean was hurt, that was all the information he was able to extract from the panicked Sam before he hung up to concentrate on driving.

He didn’t know how badly Dean was hurt, but he knew Sam wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t serious. So he gathered everything he could possibly need to help the Winchester boys and waited impatiently, stroking his beard and checking his watch every few minutes.

Sam must have pushed the Impala as fast as she could go because they showed up much earlier than 90 miles should have allowed. He sometimes wondered how that car was alive; she came back from the dead almost as many times as the boys had.

He stood as soon as he heard the low rumble of the engine come up the driveway and cringed when he saw the car. The front driver’s side window was gone, the car door dented at an odd angle and Sam’s worried, battered face behind the wheel. He couldn’t see Dean which meant he was laying down somewhere in the roomy vehicle, not a good sign, he hardly ever let his brother drive if he could help it.

The car came to a screeching halt in Bobby’s driveway, throwing up dust in its haste, and Sam flew out of the bent driver’s side door with a creak and quickly moved to the backseat where Dean lay. Bobby rushed to help when he saw the state Dean was in.

He was holding his torso with one arm, with a force that seemed like he was holding his whole body together. He had burns on the side of his face, neck and upper chest where the clothing was singed off, and he was heavily favoring his right leg. His entire shirt, or what was left of it, was covered in blood. The blood had soaked his jeans as well, painting the entire front of his body dark red.

Bobby prayed all of that blood wasn’t his, but from the pained look on his too-pale face, it probably was. Bobby helped him up the few small steps and grabbed his med-kit from where he left it on the step as he walked in. Dean’s smell took up the whole space in the small living room where Sam gently laid him on one of his plastic covered couches. He smelled like gasoline, burnt flesh, and coppery blood. It would have been nauseating to anyone who wasn’t used to it, but Bobby had been patching up hunters since before these boys were born.

He actually had no medical training in his life other than working with hunters who had been hurt on the job; but he was well read in just about every medical book he could get his hands on, and he had lots of people to practice on. With such a small population of Sioux Falls, he could have very well been the most experienced doctor in town.

While they adjusted Dean on the couch, Bobby quickly grilled Sam about Dean’s injuries. There was no emotion in his voice, just the cool calm professionalism that both boys needed in the moment, even though seeing Dean like this was making him scream inside.

“Wendigo?” Bobby questioned after he saw the long gashes running down Dean’s torso and put it together with the burns.

“Yeah, we—we lit it up and--too close, it was too close then, then it attacked him, it was still on fire and it jumped him.” Sam sputtered the story, out of breath and face twisted in anguish.

“How long?”

“About umm, 2 hours ago?” Sam made it a question, unsure of himself as he looked at his watch.

“Be more precise boy, how long ago?” Sam’s expression changed, he saw what Bobby needed and gathered himself up.

“Two hours, sir.”

“Good, help me cut his shirt loose.” Bobby’s command steadied Sam, and even though he hated being called “sir” he knew that was a sign that Sam was keeping it together. When in a panic, the ruff orders that reminded them of their father always got the boys back on track, and even though Bobby didn’t want to be anything like John, sometimes the situation called for it.

Dean squirmed and Bobby could see tears at the corners of his eyes as they cut off three layers of shirts, exposing his chest to the cool autumn air. There were three long gashes starting from his collarbone and curing down to his hip. Bobby got to work right away, starting to clean the cuts and prepare them for sutures. A far cry from the dental floss and whisky the boys usually sewed up wounds with, Bobby had real medical supplies, given to him every month by a grateful nurse who he had saved from a spirit four summers ago.

He quickly went to work stitching, and even though they weren’t as neat as Sam’s, they stopped the bleeding just the same.

“Sonofabitch! Fucking wendigo couldn’t die in peace could he, ah! Damn Bobby, you gotta be so rough?” Deans’s first words sprayed out of him between gasping breaths. Cuts were painful, especially ones this deep, but the burns were probably much worse as far as pain went and Bobby was surprised he hadn’t gone into shock yet. Sweat was beading on his forehead and he still had tears at the corners of his eyes that he refused to let fall.

He was holding on with a sheer determination and a stubbornness that Bobby had only seen in three men on the planet, all of them Winchesters.

The blood loss alone should have put him out, but Dean kept the swearing up through every single stitch. It took a long time to finish sewing him up and Bobby’s fingers were tired and sore when the process was done. He then turned to the burns on Dean’s neck and chest.

“Second degree, they will heal fine.” He stated to both boys and started cleaning and patching up the best he could in such an awkward position, rubbing a thick burn ointment over them.

“Your leg?” He said when he was finished wrapping Dean’s burns.

“Yeah, ugh, its—my knee I think.” Dean’s eyes were getting heavy now and he slurred his words a bit.

Bobby didn’t bother trying to save the jeans; they were covered in blood, so he simply slit them down the leg starting at the thigh and folded the bloody fabric onto the plastic covered couch. He instantly saw the problem and was relieved it was a quick fix. Dean’s knee cap, instead of being on the front of his leg, had twisted to the side and was clearly dislocated. Bobby shot a look to Sam and he grabbed his brother’s hand.

"Flex your hip for me, son." Bobby's gruff voice was all business.

“Damn, this is…going to hurt isn’t it?” Dean’s face became more pained and he closed his eyes.

“Do it.” He said with determination and Bobby slowly put pressure on the kneecap while straightening his leg out, letting the joint guide naturally back into place.

“SONOFA—!” Sam held Dean’s shoulder down while he bucked so he wouldn’t tear out any stitches.

“All good, son. Get some rest now.” Bobby watched him for a minute until his breaths calmed down.

 

He could see both of the boys visibly calm down. Taking in the fact that the hunt was over, and even though wounded and weary, they were safe. He hoped they felt at home here, as much as they could ever feel at home. And he was determined to get them to stay a few days to rest up before heading back out. 

Dean didn’t open his eyes again and soon he was sleeping, wheezing a bit with each breath.

“You good?” Bobby asked Sam with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah I am just dirty and have a few scrapes, just worried about Dean is all.”

Bobby went to the kitchen to wash his hands and put his med-kit back together. Sam grabbed a kitchen chair and pulled it up to the couch where he could easily see Dean sleeping.

Bobby would have loved to have the younger brother sleep as well, but he might as well not waste his breath, he knew the connection these boys had and he knew that Sam wouldn’t leave his brothers side until morning, when he was sure Dean would be ok.

So instead he grabbed two beers out of the fridge and started to make a couple sandwiches.

“He’ll be ok.” Sam made it a statement, reassuring himself with his own words.

“Yeah, he will be fine.” Bobby handed him the beer. “Now tell me about the hunt, from the beginning.”


End file.
